prevent news of this…breakdown, or whatever, from reaching the press. But Dr. Alcott is—”
“A good man,” Robert finished. “And for just that reason, I’m going to ask him to stay around until Logan has had time to work with Anna. You have an hour, Logan. The rest of us will be downstairs, visiting with Aunt Grace. I know you’ll call if you need us.”
Rose listened to the sound of multiple feet shuffling away, followed by the click of the door as it closed. She heard a single set of footsteps approach the bed.
Logan. Rose drew a slow, soft breath. She didn’t know who this Anna person was, but she did know that the woman was lucky to have such a determined friend. And so, by extension, was she.
But, despite this man’s frequent appearances in her dreams, Logan was a stranger. She didn’t feel she could trust him to listen to her explanation of the other set of dreams—those involving the Golden Gate Bridge—without calling the doctor back to cart her off to the hospital with the rubber rooms. However, if she wanted to prevent this, she would have to put an end to her “unconscious” charade sometime soon.
Besides, she had her own reasons for wanting to stay in this house, in this room, for a little while longer. And that reason was Anna Benedict. Rose had a lot of questions about the young woman she apparently resembled so very closely. Fortunately, the conversation she’d just overheard had suggested a way to get answers to some of these.
Elise had mentioned amnesia. How perfect. All she had to do was continue to say that she didn’t know any of these people. Since amnesia was hardly a reason to lock someone up—and with Logan around to champion her, believing that she was Anna—she could stay in this room long enough to investigate this look-alike of hers. And then she could wait till the gate was open, slip down those iron stairs, walk back to the gas station with the pay phone she’d noticed when the cab turned into the area, retrieve her luggage from the hotel she’d checked into yesterday, then return to Seattle. And sanity.
With this plan in mind, Rose took a deep, loud breath as she let her eyelids flutter. When she felt the mattress dip near her head and heard a deep voice say, “Anna?” she waited a heartbeat before slowly opening her eyes.
Logan was bending over her, his hands resting on the bed, his eyes dark with concern. Rose was struck suddenly by the weak-muscled sensation that flowed through her body, the sensation that always followed her dreams of this man. This time the heat rushing through her veins engulfed her in an even stronger wave as she continued to meet his gaze.
“Anna,” he said again, this time more firmly. “Are you all right?”
No, she wanted to reply, I think I’m running a fever.
Hardly the thing to say, of course. Not if she wanted to be left alone to search this room. Instead, she pulled her eyebrows into a slow frown as she asked, “Who…who is Anna?”
“You are,” he replied.
Allowing her frown to deepen, she shook her head. “You called me that before, but it doesn’t sound right. My name is—”
“Rose,” he finished. “So you keep saying. And you live in Seattle?”
It was obvious that the man was trying to humor her—or rather, the woman he thought she was. She decided to play along.
“I…” She hesitated before nodding slowly. “Yes. I…I must be.”
“Why do you say that?” Logan asked. He smiled slightly, lifting his eyebrows as he went on. “Is it because that’s where your driver’s license says you live?”
Oh, this was almost too easy, Rose thought as she widened her eyes and focused on his. “Well,” she said at last. “Yes.”
Logan moved away slowly, leaning against the back of the chair next to the bed. Rose turned her head to watch him study her. A moment later his lips curved into a smile as he asked, “How do you feel?”
Rose blinked, then shrugged. “A little stiff.”
“Would you like to sit up?”
The moment Rose nodded, Logan leaned forward, placed his hands beneath her shoulders and eased her into an upright position. Rose found her heart beating wildly again. Whether it was a reaction to having lain flat for so long or the heat from this man’s touch she wasn’t certain. But once she was upright, she placed her hands on the aqua coverlet and scooted away, seeking refuge against the wrought-iron headboard.
This didn’t place her very far from Logan, but the distance was enough to break the strange, warm current that seemed to flow between them and allow her to continue her act. Reaching for the back of her head, Rose felt the tender spot that had struck the bricks of the veranda. It took no acting ability at all to wince as she asked, “Did I pass out?”
“You did. Do you remember anything else?”
Rose hesitated, not certain how far to take this. “I remember you carrying me up here—and that I fought with you.”
Logan nodded. He continued to smile but his eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he said, “That’s right. But now can you tell me how you arrived here, at this house?”
Rose frowned as she gathered her thoughts. Careful, she warned herself, before starting slowly. “I…arrived in a taxi. I knew I was looking for my home…I somehow must have directed him to this neighborhood, but I don’t recall doing that.”
So far, so good, Rose thought as she paused. Now, all she had to do was explain how she came to think her name was Rose.
“I remember feeling foolish, suddenly realizing that I didn’t know the address I was searching for. I…my mind was fuzzy, but I felt certain I was heading home. So I checked my wallet and found a driver’s license with my name on it. Then I—”
“How did you know it was your name?”
Rose blinked as she stared at Logan. She had no idea how—then it came to her in a flash.
“There’s a little mirror in the wallet,” she said quickly. “I could see that my features matched the license photo. So I assumed I was Rose.”
“Except the address shown is in Seattle.”
Rose wasn’t going to allow herself to be tripped up. Without considering why it was so important to win this battle of wits, she gave her lips a wry twist and nodded.
“I know. That puzzled me. But still, I had this sense that I was somehow looking for my home. And then we drove by this place, and I caught a glimpse of the bridge between this house and the one next door, and the scene was so familiar that I was sure this must be the place I was looking for. I…remember thinking that perhaps I grew up here, or that I had relatives here. Anyway, I was embarrassed by the odd looks the driver was giving me, so I told him to drop me off at the gate.”
Rose ended her story with a satisfied sigh. For someone who had been reared to speak only the truth, she hadn’t done a bad job of lying. Of course, other than the bit about thinking some relative might live here, most of her tale had been true. And from the looks of things, Logan seemed to be buying it. Until his eyes narrowed.
“Are you telling me you made up that story about having dreamed of the bridge?” he asked.
Damn. She’d forgotten about that.
Rose bit the inside of her lower lip hesitantly before she shrugged. “Sort of. I do know that the view seemed familiar—the dream thing seemed the only explanation.”
Logan stared at her for a moment. Slowly his scowl relaxed and the suspicion in his green-brown eyes softened into an expression of speculation and concern.
“Do you remember anything from before you got in the cab?”
Rose sat quietly, staring at the open vee of his white shirt, pretending to think. Instead she was struck with a memory from one of her dreams in which she’d stared at that same chest. Only in the dream there had been